


Delicate, petite, and other things I’ll never be

by Trash



Category: Bastille (Band)
Genre: Angst, Coming Out, F/M, Gender Dysphoria, M/M, Trans woman Woody, non binary Kyle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-17
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-05-08 04:46:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14686776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trash/pseuds/Trash
Summary: Woody is a girl.





	Delicate, petite, and other things I’ll never be

**Author's Note:**

> For Mea. Title from Against Me!

Woody sits on the edge of the bed and watches Dan pace the room. He's on the phone to Dick, who is not impressed at Dan's suggestion of him and Woody going to an event together. Just the pair of them. Like, you know, a date. 

"It's 2017, Dick," Dan says, rubbing his face with his free hand. "I know," he says, calmly. "I know it's not you. Well, tell Virgin to go fuck themselves. Bet Branson loves a bit of cock."

Woody puts a fist in his mouth trying not to laugh. But he thinks, not for the first time, _wouldn't things be easier if I were a girl_.

***

There's a forum that suggests the best way to know if you want to transition is to picture yourself in the future. If you see yourself as a little old lady then you're possibly transgender. If you see yourself as a man then you're probably just having a bad day. 

But then there's these other things, gender queer and non binary. So could he still be himself but wear a nice frock and go to awards with Dan? Like, a couple? But then that dress would hang sad and empty at his chest, and he's always wondered what it would be like to have boobs. So what does this mean?

He keeps it together pretty well until he goes to take a shower and catches sight of himself in the mirror. 

_She_ his brain supplies. _Her_. 

Only his body says differently. With the bits it has which it shouldn't and the bits it doesn't which it should. 

Dan finds him curled up in the shower, watching the water swirl down the drain and dives in, fully dressed. "Woody, Jesus." He switches off the taps and pulls Woody to his feet, helps him out of the bath and into a towel. 

“Babe,” Dan says, “what happened? What’s wrong? You’re scaring me.”

Woody stands there, shivering. “I keep thinking about how...if I was a girl things would be...like, we could just...be us? And nobody would care?”

Dan looks relieved. “Fucking hell, I thought someone had died.” He drags him into the bedroom and sits him down on the bed, pushing his wet hair from his face. “So this...thing about being a girl. What, like, you want to be a girl? Or, you’re just...pissed off about not being public? Because we can...if you want us to come out then we can.”

“But I couldn’t be a girl?”

“Do you want to be a girl?”

Woody shrugs and loses his composure, letting Dan hold him close as he cries.

***

He buys a dress; a black, fitted top that gives way to yards of tulle, pulled together in a long skirt. It would look better on a heroin-addict rockstar with bird bones and smeared lipstick rather than on Woody who was once described as ‘sturdy’ by his mother. Nobody wants to be described as sturdy.

The bottom looks great but the top is stretched in all the wrong places and Woody is struck by the ridiculousness of all of this. 

Dan smiles when Woody shows him, twirling awkwardly in front of the mirror in the bedroom. “You look beautiful, love.”

“Feel like a prick,” Woody says. Which is probably about the time Dan decides to draft in Kyle. 

He shows up one day wearing a vest with the neck and arm holes cut so low it’s more a scrap of fabric than a vest. He pushes his sunglasses up onto the top of his head and opens his arms. “Give me a cuddle.”

The trouble with people offering you love when you feel shit is that, for a moment, you feel even worse. Woody swallows hard and lets Kyle hold him. It’s nice. 

They sit in the garden and look up at the plane trails whilst Woody tries to explain himself, the dress, the shower-crying.

“Not all women wear dresses, Woods,” Kyle says. “That’s not, like, the defining factor of a woman.”

Woody hadn’t really thought about that. “Yeah. But. Don’t they...sometimes? Don’t women want to...like...with makeup, and stuff?”

“Fucking hell, have you never met a woman?”

Woody laughs and slaps at Kyle’s arm. “Bugger off. This is a big deal.”

“You’re making it worse for yourself. Not wanting to wear a dress or put on makeup doesn’t make you any less of a woman.” Kyle lies back on the grass, arms behind his head. “The same way wearing dresses doesn’t make me any less of a man. I’m not a woman. I’m a man. And a dress doesn’t decide that - I do. It’s that easy, babe. You decide.”

 _It’s that easy_. Is it, though? “Right.”

“Want me to use female pronouns? Call you ‘she’ and ‘her’?”

“Um. Yes.”

“Cool,” Kyle says. And that’s that. 

***

When Dan comes home he smiles, sheepishly. Kyle waves. “Hello, sunshine. Thank you for letting me borrow your bae.”

“Please don’t call me that, we’re not fifteen.”

“Anyway,” Kyle says, grabbing his sunglasses and clapping Dan on the back, “she’s all yours.”

It sounds weird. Alien. But Dan doesn’t blink. “Hope you were gentle with her.”

“Always,” Kyle winks, and then he’s gone and they’re alone. 

Dan steps closer and reaches out to run a hand through Woody’s hair. “Hello.”

Woody blushes, feeling uncomfortable under the full weight of Dan’s stare. “Hello.”

“What would you like me to call you?”

“Um. Woody. Chris. I’m still...Woody. Oh...do I have to change my name?”

Dan smiles. “Chris is pretty gender neutral. Same with Woody. S’up to you.”

Woody was getting pretty fucking sick of making decisions at this point. Can’t someone decide for him? Her? Her. 

“I’m gonna have to tell mum.”

“When you’re ready,” Dan says. 

“What if I’m never ready?”

Dan kisses her, strokes his thumb across her cheek. “You will be. And I’m here. I’ve got you.”


End file.
